NationStates Jolt Archive

“We all remember the day when the sky spoke to us. A glorious and terrible day. We thought them to be Careless Spirits, to awaken our Six and lead us to the Kalkaikalguei. A cry was sent to the heavens, as the fires of our lands raged in earnest songs. Still, no reply. It was then, we realized what they were. It was then, our world was shattered. Outsiders. Those who lived in the heavens. Spirits? No. Though, they possessed the articulation and intellect that said otherwise. Only time would tell. So said my grandfather, and his grandfather before him.

That time is now.”

A flash of dazzling light, bombarded a thousand times against the austere atmosphere. A dead world, ground baked hard under the gaze of twin suns. Not but dust and polar oceans, sizzling fields of granite sand, and mountains stripped down to reveal their blood-iron cores. Storms of frightening ferocity, able to rip flesh bare in minutes - nay, seconds - blew the soot of crushed peaks across the sun-caked earth. No water. No soil. A desert.

And yet, there was life.

Scattered throughout the desolate fields of sand were pale-green, bulbous objects. Each roughly the size of a beach ball, their gourde-shaped exteriors buffering around in the gale like balloons. As far as the eye could see, thousands upon thousands upon millions of these stout plants.

They were nothing compared to the creatures that walked amongst them.

Yet, this story does not begin with the lesser creatures that roamed the deserts of the fifth planet from a small, un-obtrusive binary system. Rather, our attention is focused on the now shimmering blast of energy that has lifted itself to the heavens. It is not an unfamiliar site. For the past twenty-eight years, objects of such design have been launched into orbit. Pictures, video, inter-com, and all other forms of communication were developed for military, political, economic, and recreational use. Not too many - but enough to satisfy the needs of the intelligent creatures that lived upon the harsh world.

To the local grazers - as their claws, jaws, and other appendages ripped open the pale-green objects that dotted the desert, drinking deeply from the creamy mixture rich in water and complementary proteins - this object was no different. A flash of light, a trail of thick, black smoke, and a sound of a thousand angry sandstorms. Then, nothing. The cloud would dissipate, the ground would stop shaking, and perhaps an occasional small lizard-like creature would be shaken from its underground burrow. A tasty treat, to be sure.

To those who orchestrated the blast, it was so much more. Almost one-hundred and sixty-eight years of research, development, and manufacturing. Thrice had wars been fought over it. Thrice had Shal’Vay lay dead, their blood drunk as a somber remembrance that nothing is to be wasted. Still, it was here.

As the package achieved escape velocity and broke through the thick atmosphere, the mighty engine stopped. Small, maneuvering jets - controlled remotely from a secure location - piloted the bulky, brick-shaped device into a smooth orbit. It was roughly sixty-eight meters in length, seventy-nine meters deep, and fifty-seven meters high. As soon as the tumult of maneuvering - surprisingly well for a craft of such size - the object remained motionless. Completely unmoving. Then, a panel awoke like a sleeping infant. A great burst as explosives punched a hole in the steel siding: a massive, bright-blue disk pointed towards the infinite blackness of space. A single, steady transmission.

*Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.*

If all went well, this signal would travel through space faster than anything the people had expected. It would reach the nearest star in a matter of days. Thrice that distance in a week. The theory was sound, the technology was sketchy. Still, the people went about their daily lives - awaiting that unknown reply.

After all, the signal was fired in the direction they first received the transmission from the heavens. That first sequence of simple beeps. Of strange words and strange sounds - of images. Pale, smooth-skinned creatures with mangled hair and soft eyes. Spirits? No. People.

A call to the heavens. At last, the day had come.

OOC: Okay, a brief introduction. Hello! How are you all doing? Me, I’m doing fine. Just here to introduce my nation/race: the Kalkai. A few rules/requests before I start:

1) Not seeking conflict! - Please don’t invade me or bring trouble to my doorstep, okay? If you see a rival nation signing up for this thread, then please do not sign up just to “thwart their advances” with military action. Political or diplomatic actions are permissible, but first hint of military and the finger of God will erase the thread and start again.
2) Some time dilation - Up to you, oh illustrious sprits! One day? One month? One year? I’m setting a limit to one decade. The first nation to respond sets the first “contact.” Have some realistic dilation, please. If Nation A receives the signal in a month, Nation B would probably have to intercept that at least a week later
3) Language/Custom Barrier - Remember: we’re fricken aliens, here. Customs, language, everything is a barrier. If you land, and you piss off the natives, don’t run away and firebomb everything. Be nice and try to understand what’s going on. Also, I would like to RP with a language barrier. Makes it interesting...
4) Limit to people - I’m setting a limit of two nations to respond. Any more will overwhelm my nation, as well as make RPing slow. I don’t want to drag this on. It’s a way for my race/nation to become involved in the FT setting as early as possible.

This may seem like a lot, but I did some RPing a while back: and my introduction post soon was overwhelmed by an onslaught of competing nations. Still, remember - if you respond, you’ll become our fast allies. We may be small now, but Kalkai will grow...

A few stats if and when you come to the planet:

Gravity: 2.8 Gs
Volume: 3.24 Earth’s
Atmosphere: 19.36 PSI (Heavier than we’re used to. Wear a helmet.)
Atmospheric Composition: (Only for those that have the technology to monitor this stuff from space) N2 - 68.54%, O2 - 31.27 %, 0.09% Particulate Mater, 0.10% Trace Elements
Surface Geography: No visible metallic structures. Almost 89% of the surface is covered by either desert or mountain. There is no polar ice, rather 11% of the surface is covered by a salty ocean. Animal life is detected on the surface - in unnatural quantities. Small settlements outside made of mud can be detected as well. They look primitive.
Orbital Objects: Seventeen orbital objects detected, including the one transmitting. Most are of varying size and power, though there are signals being ricocheted onto them. You’ll need to do more in-depth scans and investigation to find where.

The station had nothing but static, and the occasional random wave of meaningless energy. It was a boring, thoughtless job, but Y'vek relished it. He sat there, paid good money, and, in return, he could do whatever he liked with his time. He was hooked up to a sensevid, when he was suddenly cut out.

The auto-routine he'd set up on the bridge had sounded. He sprinted to the bridge, which, in reality, was only a few antique compter systems, and a feed from all the ship's sensors, and a chair, but a bridge, nonetheless. It was a set of beeps, nothing he could understand. It seemed strange, however. He hit a sensepad, and sent it off to Diplomatic Command.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Y'van, who was, strangely enough, a completely different species to Y'vek, picked up the message. It was probably made by an intelligent species. Well, at this point in time, it was his call. He signalled the computer to track the signal, to within a few hundred thousand kilometres of where it should've originated, accounting for wave-shift, and other natural occurences.

He smiled. It was far enough for a long Truespace jump. He buzzed the diplomatic team, and sent a message into their implants, complete with memory. They would know what to do, now.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Exactly six hours later, a single diplomatic vessel, escorted by two fighters, left the small spaceport of Ventria. They sent a message back to the planet, on widebeam, so anyone could pick it up, from anywhere within the system.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep

It was a set of beeps, one long, and one short, in a pair, and, the time in which it took to hear one long, and one short beep, it would take the same time to hear two of the alien beeps. Hopefully, the aliens would take that as proof of intelligence..

The station had nothing but static, and the occasional random wave of meaningless energy. It was a boring, thoughtless job, but Y'vek relished it. He sat there, paid good money, and, in return, he could do whatever he liked with his time. He was hooked up to a sensevid, when he was suddenly cut out.

The auto-routine he'd set up on the bridge had sounded. He sprinted to the bridge, which, in reality, was only a few antique compter systems, and a feed from all the ship's sensors, and a chair, but a bridge, nonetheless. It was a set of beeps, nothing he could understand. It seemed strange, however. He hit a sensepad, and sent it off to Diplomatic Command.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Y'van, who was, strangely enough, a completely different species to Y'vek, picked up the message. It was probably made by an intelligent species. Well, at this point in time, it was his call. He signalled the computer to track the signal, to within a few hundred thousand kilometres of where it should've originated, accounting for wave-shift, and other natural occurences.

He smiled. It was far enough for a long Truespace jump. He buzzed the diplomatic team, and sent a message into their implants, complete with memory. They would know what to do, now.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Exactly six hours later, a single diplomatic vessel, escorted by two fighters, left the small spaceport of Ventria. They sent a message back to the planet, on widebeam, so anyone could pick it up, from anywhere within the system.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep

It was a set of beeps, one long, and one short, in a pair, and, the time in which it took to hear one long, and one short beep, it would take the same time to hear two of the alien beeps. Hopefully, the aliens would take that as proof of intelligence..

Beep-Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.

Earlier than suspected. Far earlier.

It was a time for cautious celebration, and brooding whispering amongst the dissadents. Still, all agreed: to deny the idea that there was, in fact, something out there was preposterous. This may have alerted them to our presence. Our race was now targeted. Still, we would have been eventually. Better to accept them with outstretched arms than with closed minds and drawn Sntskai. Now, each and every one prayed for their Six to protect them. To aid them. To bring about a good change. A prosperous exchange.

Or, perhaps a guide in these new waters...

---

It took quite a while, but once more a signal was sent in the (relatively) same direction as before. Though, these were far more complex. A series of pictures, showing different telemetric photos of the planet's surface. A map? Yes, it was definitely a map. Though, it was not detailed very well. All appeared desert - the only landmarks the iron-rich crags in various formations. In a crescent valley, or so it seemed, a giant green circle had been drawn. A host of strange characters dotted the edge, held together in a truly alien pattern of letter formatting. A series of six symbols enclosed in a box, which were arranged in groups of six. Still, the message was crystal-clear: this was to be the meeting space. Beneath the peak in the crescent valley.

OOC: That was just to jump in, and mark my interest in the thread. I'll write a decent post now.

IC: Since the signal had been sent, it had been fourteen days and nine hours, Earth Standard. That was the final calculation made by the AI aboard the Ventrian Pride, the only Ventrian orbital starport.

Commander Beneguiz, the commander for the diplomatic mission, as commander was a rather ambigious title within the League, it could stand for commander of two shuttles, or commander of the entire League fleet.

He was in charge of the six League Guardians, and the two fighters, for the mission. It was practice to send in a team armed well enough to extraciate themselves from trouble, although, in any kind of firefight, they were doomed, not even allowed to carry deadly weaponry.

The two fighters constantly wove around the diplomatic craft, one going ahead, to scout possible danger, and the second weaving in tighter circles, in order to destroy any spacebound phenomena. He connected with his 'suit, which allowed him to manipulate the suit, made to withstand gravity, and manufacture oxygen, when needed. He 'looked' out at one of the circling fighters, hooking his suit's display into the ship's sensors, watching the lithe, obsidian-black craft maneuovure with perfect accuracy.

He smiled. He was only a Grade 2 diplomat, and a Militia Sergeant, which was hardly enough to get him a place cleaning a fighter, let alone on a diplomatic mission to an alien race. He was just lucky there were no other higher-ranked command personnel within twelve hours travel.

If this mission was successful, and he hoped it was, it would double his rank, at least. The ship had a database of over fifty million cultures, including language patterns, culture, and an AI subroutine to be able to translate new languages.

He sat back, and waited. Although there were two Grade 12 diplomats aboard, he was the highest-ranking commander on this mission, which put him wholly in charge. He liked the new feeling. Just as he mused on that, he felt a rush of cold spill into him, as well as a sensation of...blue, before his MStabilizer was activated, and they misted into Truespace..

It took quite a while, but once more a signal was sent in the (relatively) same direction as before. Though, these were far more complex. A series of pictures, showing different telemetric photos of the planet's surface. A map? Yes, it was definitely a map. Though, it was not detailed very well. All appeared desert - the only landmarks the iron-rich crags in various formations. In a crescent valley, or so it seemed, a giant green circle had been drawn. A host of strange characters dotted the edge, held together in a truly alien pattern of letter formatting. A series of six symbols enclosed in a box, which were arranged in groups of six. Still, the message was crystal-clear: this was to be the meeting space. Beneath the peak in the crescent valley.

Beneguiz stood up, as the ship completed its first jump. The level of inaccuracy involved was small, but they needed to be within a light year of the solar system in question to emerge safely within an unknown area, and, especially to make sure they emerged without transmitting any possibly harmful radiation to the natives.

He smiled, and passed control of the ship back to the AI. One of the diplomats ran in, and handed him a neural memory pattern disc. He rested his hand on it, and, suddenly, remembered. He remembered the photograph of the alien planet. It made sense to him, although he never would've deciphered it on his own. The landing was to be there.

He felt the sense of blueness, and the coldness, wash over him. Again, his form resolved into mist, and only the stabilisers kept him from dissolving into nothing. This jump was the large one. It would take a full six hours, and then, a final microjump, for about twenty minutes. Of course, the fighters would have move in their wake to be able to keep up, but it didn't seem as if the aliens were hostile. He settled into the chair, and closed his eyes. About twenty seconds of Truespace travel, and you couldn't keep hold of conscious thought..

(OOC: Tag, I'll jump in a little later once I've worked up a post. That'll help maintain realism too, since not every faction would arrive all at once to investigate a signal.)

OOC: Gotcha. Consider that an approval. ;)

IC:

The ships were greeted with a harsh site: the dust-colored planet with oddly green seas at both of its poles. The rock was, to say the least, enormous. Over three times the size of Earth. Though, apart from it's size, there was hardly a speck of civilization. The only testament to the accomplishments of sentient beings were the seventeen satellites. They were, to say the least, crude and bulky: though the technology behind the communication relay was advanced enough to drastically reduce the usual time-dilation experienced with primitive transmissions. Even now, the blue satellite continued to blast waves of pictures into the path of the three vessels.

Though, how the ship would be able to see through the thick atmosphere was anyone’s guess.

The system itself was quite an anomaly. Thirteen planetoid structures orbiting around a binary star system. The atmosphere of the world beneath the ships was strong enough to reflect and absorb most of the intensive radiation that blasted from the volatile system. Still, there was quite apparent evidence (at least, in geological terms) of a massive shift in light, heat, and energy distribution from the twin stars. Planet’s seemed...scarred. Their atmospheres burned and broken. Some of the inner planets stripped of their once-precious atmospheres: naught but decadent husks left on their battered worlds.

The satellite continued to echo its tune. The Crescent valley - located almost sixty-eight kilometers from the Northern Sea - was obviously some nexus point. A place to gather and great. That was to be their meeting place.

---

Upon the surface, people set up their greetings for the eight consecutive “day.” (OOC: This is in terms of local time, folks!) Weariness had not set in. It had taken quite a while for the message to reach the stars, but it may take years for them to reach this place. Who knows? There was evidence of a sandstorm approaching the rendevous point: though, it would not have been apparent from space. Sandstorms often developed without warning, competing winds spontaneously kicking up the earth in a great maelstrom. The easiest way to tell of a storm was the lack of animals. The Crescent Valley was empty, save for the bulbous objects that littered the earth. Still, the travelers would not be easily warned of such a storm...

(OOC: Tag, I'll jump in a little later once I've worked up a post. That'll help maintain realism too, since not every faction would arrive all at once to investigate a signal.)

OOC: Absolutely.

AS OF THIS MOMENT, NO MORE NATIONS WILL BE ACCEPTED. THANK YOU, PLEASE COME AGAIN. BRING CAKE. WE LIKE CAKE.

He awoke, his body real, again, sensation flooding through his body. They had been in transit for six hours. The entire ship was, for some reason, rife with gamma radiation. He took a deep breath. They all wore suits, just in case of a minor shield failure, when they exited Truespace. He sighed. The suit showed the radiation dropping dramatically. Thank whatever deities were out there for highly-absorptive matter, which took the radiation, and then, the radiation made it stable. They couldn't afford the incredibly fancy shielding the military used, so they used old-fashioned, tried and tested atomic manipulation.

They sent off another message. They were well within a lightyear of the system, now. It was a jumble of images, a light flicking on, a being coming to life, and a number of other images, all sent to display an on/off state, a binary message, which said, simply, one thing. "Yes". Hopefully, the aliens could comprehend it. They didn't have the advanced computation systems the station had, so they had to make do.

The commander sighed, and decided to dictate another message, in images.
He sent an image, in the normal spectrum of light, of the ship, and of it moving. He sent the image they had received back, bent into the shape of a sphere, and his ship, moving towards it. It was rudimentary, but hopefully, the message would be understood either before, or after they landed. At least he had given warning...

OOC: I've got to get to bed...I'll post tomorrow.

OOC: Gotcha. Consider that an approval. ;)

IC:



The satellite continued to echo its tune. The Crescent valley - located almost sixty-eight kilometers from the Northern Sea - was obviously some nexus point. A place to gather and great. That was to be their meeting place.

---


The ship fell out of Truespace for the last time. They were using the least radiative means possible, and so, had gone fairly slowly. However, if anyone on that world had eyes, or could see the colour blue, they would've detected a huge blast of blue light, enough to shine nearly half as bright as the sun, even in the daytime.

The ship piloted itself, now. It would brook no interference from human fallibility, until overall landing instructions were given. It approached the planet, turning off any systems that could emit any kind of radiation, until it could scan the surface from a closer distance.

"Battlecapable systems off, Hei"

The AI complied, turning off the main shields, the weaponry systems, and even the heavier engines. The planet, now they approached, looked like a hellhole. Brown, and the occasional spot of green. It was murky, and they couldn't see a thing. They switched to UV, and IF views, and saw more. It was rocky, and, from their initial analysis, it was deadly. The AI switched on the gravity stabilisation system. It'd keep the gravity inside the ship stable, and, they'd have to use the precious nanobots to adjust their suits to 3 Gees of gravity.

The ship slowed, the great engines spilling out more and more energy, and the hull flickering different colours, as it began its descent...

Already, the Kalkai had taken refuge from the storm. No one knew when it would strike, and the results could be deadly. The Crescent Valley - called Ktsti by the local inhabitants - was bare, save for the odd flopping sounds the bulbous plants made along the desert floor. Huge, obsidian monuments, carved to show insidious looking figures shrouded by hooded clothes. Two enormous weathered hands - both appearing to be clad in gloves made of a scaly leather - shielded a small, steel balcony which opened onto the valley floor. Still, no life. Occasionally, one would hear the ripple of a sudden, violent wind or the chirping cry of a small Okch as it opened its leathery wings and flew from plant to plant.

Then, something moved.

The obsidian hands of Ktsti shielded the hooded figure from the torrential sunlight and - to some degree - the terrible, lashing winds of the storm. Two jet-black goggles, held aloft by a score of tightly-bound wrappings, gazed out onto the seemingly endless sand. Glove-clad hands rubbed anxiously against the long barrel of a truly alien weapon. The tightly-bound vestments seemed to be made of a strange, scaly leather. A little sigh, as two thick straps of a cloth-like material at the sides of its neck caved in with a breath. A single creature composed against the harsh chaos.

So enraptured was the creature, that it did not notice the shadow approaching it from behind.

(OOC: Note: All the following text is translated. The real sounds are very different...)

“Shall I push you then, Nasck, or shall I let the storms engulf your precious body?”

Another figure, much smaller than the first - but similarly clad - walked slowly up to the back of Nasck, gripping the shoulders tightly.

Nasck turned its head around, and gave a little cry of happy fright.

“Father,” Nasck said with a condescending tone, shaking its head as it said, “do not do that. I nearly fell. Lest you wish to be responsible for your favorite daughter’s death, I do not suggest you surprise me like that again. If mother were to hear of this, sh-”

“Oh, who cares about that old sack of Okch fodder?” Nasck’s Father said, releasing the grip from his daughter as he stood next to her, gazing out to the horizon. His head barely reached his daughter’s shoulders.

“Charack!” Nasck said with outrage, leaning over her father in a menacing way, “S’kai! You would speak of a woman like that?”

“Do not use that tone with me!” Charack replied, rasing a bound, slender finger up to Nasck, “You hate her more than I do. Do not lie. The number of times I have heard you complain about that temptress.”

“Father!” Nasck said, giving a light, clicking sound that was obviously a sign of laughter, “D-do not!”

“That harlot. That half-baked clay. That sun-chaser.” Charack continued, pressing his fingers into Nasck’s side with each Kalkain insult, he was clicking too.

“Fa-*Ck-ck-ck* Father! No!” Nasck struggled, easily retching herself from her father’s ticking grip. After all, she was over a foot taller and far more muscular. She turned, shaking her head.

“Father,” Nasck added, placing a hand to her forehead as she clicked weakly, “why are you here?”

“I was about to ask you the same question, little one,” Charack whispered in a smooth tone, his sides aching a bit from previous mirth, “It is not safe. The sands will grow soon. Why do you not bring your man-friend over to my place tonight? What is his name? Axskash? I have a lovely Okch spread prepared. Some fine Nar crisps, fresh from the market this morning.”

Upon the mention of Axskash, Nasck waved her hands and shook her head. She dashed to the edge of the ledge, as she continued to click in happiness.

“Axskash, father?” Nasck eventually let out, shaking her head, “I do not think he would like to come over. He...uh...he needs to...erm...”

“Come over right away?” Charack jumped in, gripping the small of Nasck’s side as he clasped his other hand to her breast, “Nasck. Regardless what you think of me, I will have you know that I have known Axskash longer than you. Though the bedroom tells all secrets of a Kalkai, I have worked hard with him over many years. He is a good man. A strong man. Unusually strong. I know of your relationship, and I could think of no one better for my Nasck’s first Legueix.”

Nasck gripped her father’s shoulder, and squeezed it a bit, “Thank you father,” she said after a bit of time, gazing up to the heavens, “I came here to think about him. I like thinking here when no one is around.”

Charack clicked a bit to himself as he looked up in the heavens as well, nodding his head, “Yes. Apart from the prospect of a brutal sandstorm, it is rather calming.”

Nasck gave a little click as she uttered, “Oh, I do not th-“

*FLASH*

A brilliant display of blue light, glowing in a powerful - but eerily shrouded - aura through the thick clouds.

“What was that?” Nasck said softly in amaizment, holding onto her father tightly, “Was that...them?”

They did not need to wait much longer. Already, the shimmering hulk of the spacecraft could be seen descending to the pad.

Charack swore.

“They come now? S’kai!” Charack bellowed, charging towards a beautifully carved door as he barked orders at his daughter, “Nasck, prepare to get them out of here as soon as possible! The storm may come at any time! Tell them to get out! Force them if you have to. I will be getting help. Go!”

Charack had overstepped his authority, but Nasck nodded in agreement. Both looked upon the three ships descending into the chaos of the ground. Soon, only Nasck remained - though both were thinking the same thing. The craft were impressive in size, but they would fall if the storm approached. Waves of sand moving at speeds that rivaled gunshots. Endless streams of razor-sharp stones. Nasck waved her hands in a pitiful attempt at gaining attention, her stomach filled with butterflies.

---

And off in the distance - too far to track and too small to notice - two powerful bursts of wind heading from the Northern sea were about to crash together. Once they hit, the spin would create a burst of powerful wind. The particles in the air and in the earth would mix as one. Not yet. Not even noticeable. But the storm was approaching...

...fast.

The ship descended, and creaked, the less compact metals groaning as gravity pulled at them, and the diplomats worked feverishly on the suits. They'd had to take out a few of the more useful pieces of equipment, such as the ramscoop, and the jets, however, in a diplomatic mission, the chances were that a jetpack would barely move the suit, against the oppressive gravity.

Although the ship had gravitic stabilisers, the gravity still increased to around 1.3 gees, taking its toll on the diplomats. They'd been genereed to be able to withstand 1.7, and still function normally, but it was still unpleasant. A rivet popped. Luckily, the rivets had only been put there to make the ship more aesthetically pleasing, as its old captain had been a big fan of the more antique technology, but still, it was worrying.

The obsidian fighters, meanwhile, simply drifted into orbit, waiting for the diplomatic mission to end. Their streamlined bodies, and delicate framework would not survive the gravity on the planet, indeed, they were made in space, to go through space, and could barely survive landing on an earthlike planet.

The ship landed, the antigravity field briefly activated, before the power drain was decided to be too great, and so, twelve stumpy, grey legs extended from the base of the ship, bending slightly, but holding the ship up, their dull surface already being scraped by sand.

The ship's door hissed, and the hydraulics involved, again, an aesthetic choice, from a long-dead man, who loved a long-dead age. The door opened, and a faint red glow was visible, as two suits, with a viewscreen on the front of each, and thousands of nanocameras on every part of it, stepped out.

The door hissed, more loudly, and the door closed. The two bone-white suits stepped slowly out. One stumbled, and its hands went down to the ground, pushing it back up again.

Inside the suits, Anne Neban, and Tsj'tar Ikran, two Grade Twelve diplomats, weren't particularly happy. It appeared they were about to meet an alien race, however, it was hellishly hot, even considering the extensive temperature control systems, and the gravity was pulling at her body. Without the suit's gravity control, and numerous padded supports, she had no doubt that she would've instantly collapsed to the ground.

She stepped foward, and stumbled, a blast of wind near-knocking her off her feet. She looked around. She couldn't see a damn thing, in this sand, so she switched to thermal sensors. It appeared, to her, that there was...something, living, a fair way in front of her. She spoke into her suit's comm, saying "Cmon, Tuj, let's go find out what that is. Maybe they'll have somewhere where there's not so much damn sand."

She grasped his hand, as he proffered it to her, and she stood up. They were moving fairly slowly, maybe one step every second, but they'd be able to double that speed, if they needed to. They started moving foward. Beneguiz would be able to take care of the ship, if anything happened. From what they'd seen, the weather on this planet was incredibly fierce. She was just hoping that these aliens didn't just sit out in the open, and weather the storms for fun.

She activated her link back to the ship. It was a little fuzzy, seeing as there was quite a bit of sand blowing around, but, with their sensors, they'd be able to decode the aliens' language, and create some kind of rudimentary program to translate good old Galactic into the alien language, and vice versa.

She smiled, inside her suit, and stepped up the pace somewhat. Hopefully she'd be able to get a better visual lock on where she was going, once her suit adapted to the enviroment..

Nasck - her infrared receptors piercing through the thick cascade of sand - looked at the two, metal-clad creatures approaching her. They were...smaller than she had thought. Still, it was clear from the stumbling of the first one that they were ill-adapt for this environment. All the more reason to worry, what with the storm approaching.

Nasck ran out, her arms waving, as she began to shout. The voice was muffled through the thick mask-like covering of bandages. As she ran towards the moving figures, Nasck’s full stature would be seen. Nine-feet, six inches (four inches or so added from her clothing) tall. Almost four feet wide at the shoulders. Her tight suit underneath several layers of the scaly leather revealed an incredibly muscular build. Yet, her breasts were completely...well...flat. Nasck looked more like a gigantic man, rather than a large woman.

Nasck continued to wave her hands frantically, as her shouts grew louder with each breath. The language was even more alien than her appearance. A series of hard consonants, clicks, gulps, hisses, and odd tongue flickers. (OOC: Eventually, I’ll write everything out the way the Kalkai would say it, but I’m still designing their language and their dictionary...)

“Come! Come with me! Come!” was the essence of her speech, as Nasck beckoned towards the nearest figures. Nascks club-like arms swung towards her form, as she shouted with all her energy. Already, Nasck’s form was a foot deep in sand. Yet, whenever she stepped the sand seemed to easily cascade from around her feet. Normally the ground did not act like this...but in a blustery season like this...

“Come! Come with me! Co-“ Nasck continued to cry, then she stopped. Nasck’s blood ran cold. She could feel internal sweat wafting against her soft tissue. Nasck’s gaze was fixed at a point high above the ship, towards the northern wall of the crescent. Nasck first pointed at the monstrosity she beheld, then she violently shook her head. She could not wait any longer.

“Come, now!” Nasck shouted, as she attempted to rush towards the two metal-clad figures and grasp them in her arms. If successful, she would bolt towards the beautifully carven door...or die trying.

For, behind the ship, a mountain of sand - some sixty miles high - was rushing towards them. It seemed to have risen out of nothing - a solid slab of beige and black. Fragments of soil - from clay-sized particles to globs as big as tennis balls - pushed by the strong, seasonal winds that descended from the cooler poles to the equator. Though Nasck did not see it, a similar wall was approaching from the other side of the crescent.

Nasck might be able to survive such a catastrophe...though the others would surely die, lest she saved them.

Anne Neban, and Tsj'tar Ikran

Anne spoke into her comm. "We've got some kind of sandstorm coming up. These suits won't be able to hold out for long, but I'm assuming we're going to go in some shelter. Put the ship's repulsor shields on. We don't know how well the hull will hold against constant bombardment, and they don't give out any radiation. Just try and get the secondary heavy fusion generator online, ok?".

She looked outside, and suddenly felt something pulling against her suit. She heard Tsj'tar speak through him comm, but his voice had a bit of static around it, for some reason. "Anne, I think it's trying to get us to shelter. Just use the repulsorlift units we've got, that should make the suits a little lighter for it.".

She nodded her assent, before remembering he couldn't see her, and then activated the repulsorlift. It would drain the suit's energy, but, chances were, if these aliens could build spaceworthy satellites, they had some form of energy they could harness. Her head slammed into the padded front of the suit, and cracked loudly against it. She was swept into unconsciousness, as she felt her speed increasing.. The last thing she saw, on her viewscreen, was a giant door. She felt her emergency nanobots flood into her, pumping painkillers in, and conducting repairs to her skull..

Beneguiz ran down to the power room. He pulled out his second-last canister of nanobots, and looked at it, despondently. If they ran out, they'd be pretty screwed. Hell, all a Grade 2 Engineer needed to qualify was to be able to use nanobots efficiently, these days. He put it back in his belt,and pulled out a posdriver. It was less efficient, and harder to use, but he needed the practice. He pulled up the viewscreen, and stared at it, for a moment. He moved the posdriver around, and hit the button on the end of it. A tiny flash appeared, and fused together part of the damaged secondary fusion generator. It was done, now. The generator wouldn't explode if he turned it on, although it'd only put out a third of its full capacity. He switched it on, and stepped back, and dashed back down to the bridge. He turned the repulsor shields on, and noticed, on the hull sensors, hundreds of clumps of mud, and millions on millions grains of sand being repelled gently by the shields, forming a browny-yellow ring of soil outside the ship. He frowned. If it covered the ship, he'd have no sensor output. He turned on one of the defensive cannons, put it on low power, and fired it at the pile of soil, throwing part of the ring back. He'd just need to maintain two holes in the ring, so he didn't lose contact with the diplomatic team..

Nasck gripped the two in a massive grip, holding them beneath her armpits like two heavy barrels. Then, as their repulsorlift activated, Nasck felt the weight lessen significantly. Good. Although, one of the two creatures had gone...limp. Her deadweight was hardly noticable with the repulsorlift suits, but Nasck still felt a small tug. Still, the lessened weight made it all the easier for Nasck to charge towards the carved doors - which were already open.

Charack stood at the doorway, a group of three Kalkai, each around the size of Nasck, trailing behind the frantic father. The Kalkai held a series of long, slender objects, wrapped heavily in cloth and bandages. In fact, they were enclothed in the same fabric as the Kalkai’s outfits.

“Nasck! Come on, now!” Charack bellowed over the howl of wind, three of the Kalkai rushing out to grab the two figures.

The third Kalkai, an impressive woman standing at nine-foot eight inches, raised the slender object up towards the imposing wall of sand and death. Already, the ship had been engulfed by the cloud, occasional shots pitifully blasting through the bizzarly shaped mat of earth against the ship. The slender object’s purpose was soon reviled, as the Kalkai pressed on a large panel located under the bindings.

With the sound of a firecracker, what appeared to be a cloud of lighting suddenly erupted around a clump of sand spanning a few dozen cubic meters. Consecutive shots continued to hit the wall with blasts of electricity. While not doing much, the electricity had a significant effect. Most of the granular particles in the cloud were super-heated into glass - the temperature of the cloud of lightning was well over 2000 Degrees Celsius. Thus, the dozen cubic meter “blocks” of the sand turned into large chunks of hot glass, trapping a number of sand particles within its molten core. The clumps were soon too heavy, and fell to the earth: their landing cushioned by the now-soft sand.

It was like a branch in the forest, for all the good the shots did, but it was just a way to keep their most immediate area a little safer. At least, for a time...

---

Nasck tossed the two forms - one to each of the larger Kalkai - while she fell hard against the smooth interior of the passage. The Kalkai which was firing at the wall now only feet away was gripped tightly by Charack and hurled back into the threshold of the passage. In the same movement, Charack slammed his right leg against the large, heated growth on the side of the wall. In less than a second, a thick, steel-clad door slid into position. It was almost two feet thick, resting on a magnetized panel. The entrances had to be fast-closing...for times such as these.

Nasck was breathing heavily, as she rested her form against the cool wall of the cavern. It was almost pitch-black in the passage, but Nasck did not need light to see. Small tracks of bioluminescent creatures lined the wide hallway. It was almost twenty feet tall, twelve feet wide. It looked as though the massive entrance had been carved straight from the mountain. Or, at least, a pre-existing cavern. Nasck’s infrared sensors saw the heat pulsating from the creatures shining their pale blue-green light throughout the structure.

This peaceful situation was soon broken when the Kalkai that Charack had pulled in jumped to its feet, as it grasped Charack by the scruff of his robe-like clothing.

“Do not EVER do that again!” the Kalkai bellowed in the powerful voice of a female Kalkai. The language might not have been clear to the visitors, but the tone would be clear as day. Hissing, spitting, and anger. Pure loathing. “S’kai! Never again! Do you hear me? I am a woman, and I am to be treated as such!”

“S’kai, Vkmnk,” Charack said, allowing his body to go limp in the woman’s powerful grip. When Charack spoke it was in a cool, calm tone. “A moment of embarrassment is better than an eternity of death, Vkmnk. Lest you fo-“

“Do not quote scripture to me, Charack!” Vkmnk bellowed, though her grip lessened somewhat, “You may be a strong man, but that does not mean you look out for us! We look out fo-“

“Vkmnk, please, close your mouth.” One of the other Kalkai said in a weary voice, she too a woman. “I would not have liked to clean your body off the parapet tomorrow. Swallow your pride, lest your pride swallow you.”

Vkmnk sounded irate for a moment, as she stamped her feet hissing angrily, “Hssssssk! More scripture?! Honestly, it is as though no one can think of an original lesson anymore...” Vkmnk finally let go of Charack, as she said timidly, “Hssk...well, you do display certain...strengths that males do not. I thank you for...saving my life. But do not look too far into it! S’kai!”

Charack, rubbing gingerly at his bandaged throat, nodded. “As you wish, Vkmnk.” His attention was then turned onto the two metal-clad figures.

“So,” Charack said, leaning over to look over at Tsj'tar Ikran, “they obviously are wearing these suits...but why? Protection? Survival? Or, are they the suits? Hssk...I do not know what to think. What do you believe, Nasck?”

Charack’s candor, his movements, his speech, the way he seemed to be studying Tsj’tar and Anne with his dark, unmoving goggles suggested a curious intellect at work.

“I do not know, father,” Nasck replied, gazing down at Anne’s limp form on the side of the wall, “Peradventure they need this suit for survival, or they are the suits, I suggest we allow them to keep it on for the time being.”

Charack nodded, as he said, softly, “I agree...but, it is not up to me. Oh, wise and illustrious Vkmnk! Please pass judgement upon my simple observation!” Charack gave a feign look of servitude, holding his arms tightly at his sides, his hands curved to grasp at his chest, while his head looked at a point some two inches below Vkmnk’s chest.

“Oh...stop!” Vkmnk mumbled, shooing away Characks’ sarcastic form, “Do not disrespect me again. But, as much as it pains me to do so, I will have to agree with you. Let us observe them for the time being. Let them get their wits together.”

All attention was turned on the two small forms. Waiting and watching.